


Smashed Heart

by Del_Rion



Series: Turquoise [3]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Del_Rion/pseuds/Del_Rion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartbreak isn’t really Tony’s thing – unless it’s meant literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smashing Once...

**Author's Note:**

> ****
> 
> Story Info
> 
> **Title:** Smashed Heart
> 
>  **Author:** Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
> 
>  **Fandom:** The Avengers (MCU)
> 
>  **Era:** Some time after the movie “Avengers” (2012)
> 
>  **Genre:** Drama
> 
>  **Rating:** T / FRT
> 
>  **Characters:** Bruce Banner (Hulk), Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Nick Fury, J.A.R.V.I.S., Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers (Captain America), Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), Tony Stark (Iron Man), Thor (, Jane Foster, Happy Hogan)
> 
>  **Pairings:** Happy/Pepper, Pepper/Tony
> 
>  **Warnings:** Language, violence, deadly injuries.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Iron Man and Avengers, their characters and everything else belong to Marvel. The movie versions belong to Marvel Studios, Paramount Pictures, Walt Disney Pictures, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon… in short: everyone but me. This is pure fiction, created to entertain likeminded fans, no profit made.
> 
>  **Beta:** Mythra
> 
>  **Feedback:** Much appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
>  **About _Smashed Heart_ :** Takes place some time after “Sleeping It Off”.
> 
> Clearly the fic’s name (and chapter names) are a take on “Hulk smashes” phrase – and an auction event.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Chapters and status:** Below you see the writing process of the story’s chapters. If there is no text after the chapter’s title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.
> 
>  
> 
> **I – Smashing Once…**  
>  **II – Smashing Twice…**  
>  **III – Smashed!**
> 
> * * *

# **I – Smashing Once…**

  
  
  
  
 ****

### Stark Tower  
Manhattan, New York, NY, USA

Another victory won, another disaster averted. He felt like a goddamn hero, regardless of what Steve Rogers said. Well, not so much after the Chitauri attack and his stunt with the nuclear missile…

It was amazing how often the world seemed to be ending these days – or maybe it was what Fury had said; the world was getting bigger, the “world” in this instance being considerably more vast than just Earth.

Perhaps the presence of the Avengers was luring out those who thought they could challenge them, which was kind of fucked up since these villains would have gone mostly unchallenged before the assembly of the Avengers. Well, he had been out there as Iron Man, yet it took the whole team these days to kick each new threat’s ass as they continued to emerge from their hideouts. Perhaps it was just as well that their enemies were not smart enough to realize they had waited too long to launch their fiendish plots.

Tony landed carefully, his suit having sustained some injuries in battle. J.A.R.V.I.S. was running commentary in the background, telling him things he already knew, but he was too focused on flying straight to put the AI on mute. Once he had successfully hit the platform of the Stark Tower, he walked with some difficulty, the machine fighting to remove some bent pieces of the suit, and almost stumbled inside when one of the boots got stuck momentarily.

“Truly graceful,” he muttered.

Underneath, Tony was mostly unscathed. Some bruises were forming, he could feel it, but no broken ribs this time, or a concussion, or a heart attack waiting behind the corner – none more than usual, anyway.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony called out, “run the diagnostics from the battle, see what went wrong – again – and make adjustments.”

_“Yes, sir,”_ the voice replied with its usual calm willingness to do his bidding.

“Pepper?” Tony called out next, looking around. Pepper Potts was nowhere to be seen, which was odd, since he had let her know he was coming in soon. She usually made it her business to be here when he came back from his most recent heroic activities and the closer to death’s doors he crawled, the higher her tone would be.

No reply.

“Locate Ms. Potts for me,” Tony said, knowing that J.A.R.V.I.S., always listening, would know he meant him, and not some other disembodied voice in the room.

_“She has just arrived. Garage floor, on her way to the elevator.”_

“Thanks,” Tony said, and decided on a shower. He felt dusty and beaten up, more and more each second. It may have all gone well, but in the heat of the battle Thor had accidentally hit him with Mjolnir, sending him through a building that had already been teetering on the verge of collapse, and it took his team-mates – rather, Hulk – an hour to dig him out. Tony had been tempted to just blow his way out of there, or dig through the ground, but their tight-ass Captain seemed to think they had already done enough damage.

He sounded more and more like Fury each day. If Tony cared enough, he might have suggested that Cap not spend so much time within S.H.I.E.L.D. property.

Pepper had arrived by the time he had gone through the routine post-mission shower, which was much more awkward than an ordinary bathroom routine. Sometimes he managed to talk Pepper into joining him, to tend to her hero, but she made no move to approach the bathroom this time, and Tony found her seated in the living room, sipping a drink, looking out over the city through the windows that had been replaced after the brief Chitauri invasion – and after the unfortunate plunge Tony took through one of them thanks to Thor’s brother Loki.

Tony stopped to get himself a drink because it usually wasn’t a good sign if Pepper had already gotten herself one. “We won,” he said cheerily, approaching the couch once he had the drink in hand.

“I saw it in the news,” Pepper noted, taking a sip, slowly, all calm, cool, and collected. No screaming, no shouting, no telling Tony that he had no regard for his own safety whatsoever.

Tony went to sit down beside her, looking concernedly at the stoic face. “Okay, what’s wrong? I’m here, I’m alive, we didn’t destroy too much public or private property…”

There was silence. Was she giving him the silent treatment? Really? She should know Tony would just talk her out of it – literally talk her out of it.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Pepper said then, suddenly. She looked at him, drink forgotten. Yeah, Tony had a drink, too, and he kind of wanted to swallow it down right now, but he knew that would be an ill-timed action.

But when had that ever stopped him? He was the _king_ of ill-timed actions.

“I can’t keep sitting here, attending meetings, watching my phone, _waiting_ for you to call when you’re about to guide another nuclear missile into an alien mother ship on the other side of the universe!”

“Well, technically, you never picked up the call that time,” Tony noted.

“Exactly!” Pepper said, a bit more shrilly now. “You almost died, and I would have been sitting there realizing that I had just missed the last chance to talk to you ever again. And every day, it’s the same. People call me and I expect them to tell me that you’re dead, or in the hospital, or missing in action. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Tony said, calmly, softly, and moved towards her, to touch her, because it always calmed her down a bit.

“Don’t do that,” Pepper snapped. “This isn’t like all those other times, Tony. I love you, and I… understand that someone needs to protect us all, but I can’t spend the rest of my life dreading each moment. It’s not healthy, and it’s not fair. I deserve… something better.”

And somehow, he knew it wasn’t like those other times when they had talked about this. She wasn’t going to end up kissing him heatedly, wanting to drown the fear with passion and closeness – which Tony was very good at.

Tony knew she had a point; even in his self-obsessed mind, he had known she would reach that conclusion, because honestly? Part of him felt a bit bad for putting her through all this. Every time he almost died, or one of them did, he was reminded that she had not chosen to be part of this. She might love Tony, but… she had never loved Iron Man, and as long as Tony and the suit were one, something had to give.

“I deserve to be happy, and not constantly reminded that life isn’t forever,” Pepper said, as if to convince them both.

“I realize that,” Tony agreed.

It seemed to surprise her, that he didn’t fight. But then, Tony wasn’t stupid – no one could call him stupid. He might not be very good with people, nor did he possess the same moral standpoints as everyone else, but he knew that in Pepper’s place… Well, he couldn’t imagine it, but it made sense.

She squared her shoulders and downed the rest of her drink. “I’m going to take a small… leave of absence. I will continue to work for Stark Industries, but you and me… I don’t know where this is going.”

Tony nodded, feeling a bit numb, and followed Pepper’s example and drained his glass.

_“Ms. Potts, Mr. Hogan is waiting for you,”_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed them.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I did mention a leave of absence,” Pepper reminded him, getting up, smoothing her dress. A rather nice dress, really, and nice shoes, too. In fact, it was all _too nice_ if she was just going to go on a vacation.

“Is there someone else?” Tony blurted out. He wasn’t sure how his brain jumped to that conclusion. Sometimes it just happened.

Pepper looked at him and didn’t deny it, which meant that his brain’s sudden surge wasn’t completely based on fiction. Then she started to look increasingly uncomfortable.

“There’s someone else,” Tony said, a bit needlessly.

Someone else.

Someone who was replacing him, Tony Stark.

Seriously?

He had to meet this guy.

“Who is it?” he asked, bombarding Pepper with questions.

She looked away, at Manhattan spreading out beyond the windows, then back at him. “It’s not… like that.”

“Who is it?” Tony asked again, standing up to face her.

“Happy,” Pepper said, almost in a whisper.

For a moment, Tony thought she was just repeating the adjective from before, but then it all clicked.

“Happy,” Tony parroted. “Happy Hogan?”

“He’s there when you’re flying off to save the world,” Pepper pointed out defensively. “He’s there, holding my hand, comforting me, when I wait for news of your safe return. He’s always there, he’s always been there, and… I can trust him.”

That hurt, perhaps more than everything else.

She couldn’t trust him – or at least she felt that way.

Tony knew it wasn’t a matter of ‘I’m-not-going-to-come-and-save-you-if-the-world-is-about-to-end’. She knew Iron Man would always protect her, like he protected everyone else, but at some point, she had stopped trusting Tony. Well, maybe a long time ago, but it hadn’t been an issue until now, really.

“Okay,” Tony said, stepping to the side, as if he was standing in her way somehow.

She looked at him and touched his arm. “Tony, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Tony just nodded, looking away into the distance, the lights blurring together. Everything was getting mixed up.

He heard her leave, her footsteps echoing on the floor.

“Dim the lights,” Tony commanded, and a second later the room plunged into semi-darkness. He walked up to refill his glass, then chose to take the entire bottle with him, and sat back on the couch, looking out the windows, imagining he could still smell Pepper’s perfume in the air.

Not the perfume he had given her.

He leaned his head back against the couch, closed his eyes, and wondered if this was what happened to those who played the part of a superhero. Weren’t they supposed to get the girl in the end?

Apparently not.

  
  
  
  
_to be continued…_


	2. II - Smashing Twice...

# II – Smashing Twice…

 

 

### A few days later  
Avengers Mansion  
Manhattan, New York, NY, USA

Tony had been hammered when he flew out to the family mansion that these days served as one of the Avengers’ bases. Technically Stark Tower was one of them, but it had been under re-construction when the Avengers needed to find a place to stay. 

Still, it was Tony’s place, and he thought he was entitled to enter the premises in whatever condition he preferred. 

Clearly Steve Rogers aka Captain America aka Captain Uptight didn’t think the same. “Are you sober?” he asked, poking Tony hard in the side. It hurt, making him wish that he had worn his armor after all, but he didn’t like sleeping in it that much. 

“What do you think?” Tony muttered, heaving one eye open with some difficulty. 

“You’ve been AWOL for the last three days, and then you show up here, drunk, and pass out on the couch.” 

“It was closer than my room,” Tony offered. His head was ready to split, but that had been preferable to the feeling he had the rest of the time. He hadn’t thought Pepper leaving him would feel so bad. Clearly he had gone a bit off the deep end, because she kept trying to call him, and he kept blocking her number. 

“Where have you been?” Steve asked. He wasn’t in uniform, although his voice suggested he was mentally wearing it. 

“Around. Vacationing. Having a blast. Why, did the world try to end itself again? Another super-secret party of goons and their evil master-mind leader trying to make Fury piss his pants in fear of a global downfall of mankind?” 

Steve just stared. 

Tony thought he might have been able to rephrase that a bit better if he weren’t still running on last night’s fumes. 

“Sober up. We’re training today,” Steve said and left him, probably to go out on his routine run. 

Yes, indeed; the underground room that could withstand everything from Iron Man’s weaponry to Hulk-smashing and Mjolnir-bashing was finally finished. About time; Steve kept going on about how they needed to hone their team skills, and he had been trying to inch his fist up Tony’s ass in order to complete it faster. Figuratively, of course; Tony didn’t think Steve even understood the concept of putting any of his body parts inside a person’s ass, much less his fist. 

_God_ , was he _that_ horny, thinking about Captain America and his red gloves in so much detail? He thought not. 

Tony decided on a cold shower, to clear his head and to have a chance at eating breakfast should the smell of old alcohol otherwise offend the others. 

* * *

It figured that Steve had already planned their every move in the pristine training room. He kept pairing people up, giving them certain things to concentrate on, and Tony kept rolling his eyes inside his suit. Banner looked awkward as always, not really wanting to let the big guy come out and play, in case he totally lost control, but Tony reassured him the room could take it. Not that the condition of the room was on top of Bruce’s list of worries, Tony knew. 

Thor joined them a bit late, having visited Jane Foster last night. He seemed to be in a good mood, which meant he happily joined the exercise, over-enthusiastic to test the new premises. Like Tony, he didn’t much care for training, seeing as he was already a warrior, but it beat sitting around the mansion in his opinion. 

“Stark, Banner, you’re up,” Steve finally called, the two of them the only ones left. Banner twitched, sighed, then started taking off his clothes, leaving only the loose, stretchy pants before he started turning green. He grew in every direction, until he cast a shadow on Tony, who shrugged and started the thrusters, taking to the air. 

There was no fine-tuning with Hulk; even if Banner had some thread of control over him, a choice in turning into the big guy, the Hulk took over after that. Perhaps that was why Steve had paired them with each other; Tony was notorious for not listening to orders, and ruining everyone else’s workout, so putting him with Hulk was probably smart. 

As the alcohol levels descended, his mood worsened once again. He thought of this, of Pepper, of how happy he had actually been… and how unhappy he was now. But she was happy with Happy, which should make him happy – right? It sure didn’t cheer him up, making him look back at all the ugly things that had ever crossed his mind before, the worst of them being when he was still dying from palladium poisoning, or trapped in a cave, hooked up to a car battery. 

Perhaps that was where the bit of madness came from; whenever Tony was upset, it was like some filter of self-preservation disappeared. Some called him self-destructive, although he was quick to deny it, being too fond of living. 

But there was that dark little voice that made him angry, made him turn mid-air and fire at Hulk, then turn and fire again, a little harder each time, knowing the big guy could take it. 

He should have known not to make Hulk angry, to tease him and not really attack him. 

Tony had spent so many hours talking to Banner, studying him from afar after the Chitauri disappeared and Banner spent some time living with him before moving to the Mansion… 

Yeah, he knew all that, and still he fired at him, hard, and the instant Hulk caught him in the air was the moment he should have started praying Bruce was paying attention somewhere behind those green eyes. 

Instead he shot up his hand and fired a blast right in Hulk’s face, in a last-ditch act of retaliation. 

Hulk didn’t let him go, but instead smashed him into the floor that actually dented beneath the impact, regardless of being designed to take a lot more than Hulk could deliver at his angriest. Well, semi-angriest, anyway, because there was no verifiable data about Hulk’s capabilities when he really got pissed. 

Tony heard something crack, felt the impossible pressure, and then Hulk was hauling up his fists and coming down at him again. He would have shot the chest RT, but there were so many warning lights blinking, and Hulk had really done a number on his – 

The fists came down, with a huge _snap_ , and the last thing Tony was aware of was the sensation of a hot wave passing over him from stomach to throat, his chest shattering beneath the weight. 

 

 

_to be continued…_


	3. Smashed!

****

# III – Smashed!

 

 

****

### Avengers Mansion  
Manhattan, New York, NY, USA

Bruce came back slowly and painfully – too slowly when he began to realize what had happened. 

This was why he didn’t want to be involved in training exercises, didn’t want to be around people, doing this, being part of a team, even if it occasionally meant saving a few lives, or Manhattan, or the entire world. 

“Stark!” Steve barked in his best Captain America voice. “Get up.” 

Bruce held his head, feeling like it was splitting in two from the pain. He usually just woke up, but he had to transform – he had to come back. 

“Stark,” Hawkeye’s voice joined that of their leader, “that isn’t funny, man. Put the lights back on and keep rolling, Shellhead…” 

The lights in the room were on, so Bruce knew he didn’t mean those lights. He groaned, opening his eyes, feeling like he was still shrinking, too tight for his skin, and Tony – Iron Man – lay at his feet. The lights on his helmet were off, and more disturbingly, the light on his chest was flickering on and off like a lamp about to burn out, emitting a barely audible sound, and Bruce knew it most certainly wasn’t supposed to do that. Nor was his chest supposed to look like someone had just struck it downwards a good ten inches at least. 

“Maybe… he’s not faking it,” Natasha was the first to dare to say it, and the others began shuffling closer, wary of Bruce and his unusual transformation back from the Hulk. On the floor, Tony didn’t move or make a sound. The arc reactor let out one final rasping hiss and went out. 

“No,” Bruce managed, tearing at his hair, forcing the other guy to recede, to be gone, to leave him in charge. The other guy never liked that, as rarely as it happened, but Bruce was adamant. 

“Stark?” Steve asked again, more hesitant this time, coming closer still, shield in one hand, the other fisted, in dread and determination. 

“He seems unwell,” Thor noted. 

Bruce fell onto his knees beside the suit, which was as unmoving as always, but it seemed different to him. Not just because the lights were gone, but because he could _tell_ … 

“Tony, please,” he whispered, yanking at the suit. The chest – or where it had been – was twisted and dented, and Thor and Steve stepped forward to remove it. Thor, not even consulting anyone, ripped off the helmet, which luckily didn’t end up rolling across the floor with its owner’s head stuck inside. 

Tony’s face was very still. Bruce recalled another time, quite recently, but it was hazy, not his memory, but the other guy’s… There was blood on his lips now, smeared slightly, and Bruce went for his neck, to trace the pulse, which was so thready he could barely find it. 

“We need to get him out of the suit,” he said hurriedly. There was still a chance that the suit had taken all of the damage, as it should, and the arc rector mounted in Tony’s chest was fine even if the one powering the suit had gone out. 

Steve just nodded. 

It was not as easily done as said; clearly the suit wasn’t supposed to come off by force, and although Thor may have been able to take it to pieces, given a little time, it would have injured Tony even more. By the time they yanked the chest piece completely free, Natasha took a step back, gasping, and even Steve stopped for a moment. 

There was blood, more of it, but not too much. The arc reactor was… well, suffice to say, it looked like someone had hammered it just a tad deeper, and it’s familiar blue flow was barely there, flickering on and off, much like the one in the suit just before it shut down completely. Bruce could tell Tony’s ribcage had taken most of the impact after the suit failed to protect him, but the arc reactor was broken, and he recalled what Tony had told him about it. 

“We need to…” Bruce thought hard. What else had he learned about the man? Before the arc reactor… 

“I’m sure he has a spare somewhere,” Hawkeye noted. 

“It wouldn’t do him any good; the socket wall is broken. It needs to be reset, and… the shrapnel.” If nothing else killed him, they surely would, floating into his heart… 

“I believe he used some kind of magnet, powered by a car battery, before creating the first miniature arc reactor,” Natasha cited a file she must have read about Tony and his world-renowned escape from a cave in Afghanistan. 

“It will have to work,” Bruce nodded. 

“Just tell us what you need,” Steve said firmly. “We will get it for you, Doctor.” 

* * *

It looked like a caveman version of life-support, but it worked; Tony lived. That had been Bruce’s first concern, and now that they had the shrapnel under control, it was time to focus on the other problems. 

Mainly, mending broken, shattered and bruised ribs, fixing or completely replacing the socket wall – and finally, creating another arc reactor. 

Bruce had things pretty well in hand before it came to the last obstacle. Tony hadn’t shared his latest modifications to the arc reactor, and even if he had, it wasn’t Bruce’s strongest area. Sure, while he had been staying in the Stark Tower, he had seen much of the process that went into the Iron Man suits, possibly more than anyone because Tony liked to impress him… yet it didn’t mean he could even dream of replicating it. 

He had almost killed this man, though, and he was damn well going to fix him up again. However, as long as Tony remained unconscious, and he seemed quite happy to do that, all he could do was try to have S.H.I.E.L.D. hack into his files and then make sense of them. 

Of course another route was to try and sweet-talk J.A.R.V.I.S., whether or not that would even work. Perhaps a logical enough explanation would make the AI release the needed information and even aid him, but Bruce kind of doubted that. There were some basic rules there, under the sophisticated voice, and he knew Tony would have not included a loophole so that people could steal his work through J.A.R.V.I.S. 

Also, Natasha was rather good at ruining even his last hopes of success: “Stark created a new element to power the arc reactor about two years ago.” 

Fantastic. Unless Tony had some of those lying around, he was screwed – and they had checked, and double checked, and it seemed Tony didn’t have any spare arc reactors or energy sources available at this time. 

“What did he use first?” Bruce asked, trying not to sound like someone had just kicked him in the gut, hard. 

“Palladium. But it caused a poisoning in his system, the more he used his suit.” 

“That, I think, I can replicate,” Bruce pondered. “He built the first one in a cave, right?” 

“Yes,” Natasha said doubtingly. “People have tried re-building the miniaturized arc reactor, but haven’t succeeded. We might be able to get his plans for it, though, if he ever had those.” 

Bruce, for the time being, wanted to imagine that Tony, like most scientists and inventors, would like keep some kind of record of their success. Which meant that somewhere, Tony had the plans for both new and old arc reactor models, and their power sources. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S.?” he called out. 

_“Yes, Dr. Banner?”_

“Is there any way you can show to me the blueprints and notes including the miniaturized arc reactor and the palladium core?” 

_“I am sorry, but that information is unavailable to you.”_

“Great,” Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. will get on it,” Natasha reassured him, and with one final look at Tony, she escaped from the room, judging from the pace she took. 

Bruce glanced at Tony, then sat down near the bed. The man’s chest was a myriad of bandages in an attempt to allow his ribs to heal in the right position and to protect the wounds where the suit had cut to his flesh. Bruce had raised the socket wall back to where it should be, the doctors had tended to the internal bleeding although it still worried him, but Tony didn’t as much as stir. His vital signs were steady, although not perfect, his brain activity seemed normal, but he remained unconscious, completely unhelpful in providing Bruce with the information he needed to save his life. 

* * *

It could be said that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t often disappoint when it came to procuring information the source of which didn’t want them to have. Of course it didn’t come with assembly instructions, but Bruce appreciated the chance to work with something; staring at Tony’s unmoving, barely-breathing body was driving him crazy, making him relive the moment when he began to realize something had gone horribly wrong. Amazing as it seemed, he thought even the big guy had known he had done something he shouldn’t have, and that was why Bruce had been able to come out so quickly. 

Tony had granted him access to most of the labs he owned, and Bruce used that access to start his work on the arc reactor, although there was always at least one screen keeping an eye on the room Tony was in, and J.A.R.V.I.S. has been willing to inform him should anything change in his condition. 

Even with plans, notes and blueprints, he kept running into dead ends at least once an hour. It took a lot of willpower to not start hurling objects at the walls – and turn into the other guy – to express the desperate need to make this work. Tony’s life depended on his success or failure, quite literally, and he was determined not to let him die on him. 

So, he kept pressing his fingers against his nose, taking deep breaths, and looking for clues as to how to solve the next problem. It was like walking, he told himself; one foot at a time. 

Fury stopped by the next day, visiting Tony’s bedside, asking whether he could provide any help from the extensive selection of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s doctors and engineers, but after Bruce rather irritably asked him whether they could re-create the device that had kept Mr. Stark alive the last few years, Fury didn’t offer him any more help. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” was the only thing he said to Bruce. “He should have known better than to attack you in that fashion.” 

That still bothered Bruce; he had reviewed the tapes from the incident, over and over, and he could see how Tony had brought this on himself. What had provoked him to do something like that? He might have acted like he didn’t have any fear towards the other guy, but he had always been rather respectful of Bruce’s darker side, what with all the poking with pointy objects and stuff. 

“He seemed a bit off for a few days,” Bruce shrugged. “And regardless… I cannot see how it wasn’t, at least partially, my fault as well.” 

Fury looked at him as if he still disagreed with him on that point, but said nothing else before leaving. Bruce went back to work, but every time he closed his eyes, he recalled that part of the tape where Iron Man shot Hulk in the face, then was hurled down, and one strike later, he moved no more. To actually see the metal of his suit denting, unable to take the raw, inhuman strength… to witness the moment when the arc reactor took a hit… 

The moment when Hulk broke his heart. 

No, Bruce wasn’t about to let him die. Not on his watch. Not as long as the world had the technology to save him. 

* * *

Pepper Potts arrived several days after the incident. Apparently no one had managed to tell her beforehand, and she said it was due to ‘Tony being difficult’. She had a strange, troubled expression on her face when she said it, and sat by his bed, Happy Hogan at her side. Bruce, when he briefly saw them while checking on their patient, thought there was something a bit off about it, and later, after Pepper had left for a short while to freshen up, Natasha said she and Tony had broken up just a few days before the incident. 

That, somehow, explained things to Bruce, although everyone else seemed to think Mr. Stark could not be affected by such a human thing as a broken heart. Be that as it may, Tony had been acting out ever since Pepper said they had split up, and he had refused to talk to her after that – or Mr. Hogan, for that matter, who seemed to be directly involved – and he had pulled his stunt on Hulk almost as soon as he showed up at the Avengers Mansion. 

It left a bad taste in Bruce’s mouth, although he didn’t think he was responsible for dealing with Tony’s emotional life, especially when he clearly hadn’t been willing to just talk about it with one of his teammates. Well, not that Tony was the type, but he could surprise you, and Bruce thought they had a bit of a connection, whether he wanted to or not. Tony had made sure of that after they met, even before their first battle together. 

All that made Bruce work even harder in the lab, and some days he even thought he had managed to talk J.A.R.V.I.S. into helping him. It didn’t make his task easier, and it was a lot of trial and error, but finally, after many painful failures and sleepless hours trying to rest but thinking about arc reactors instead, a faint blue glow lit his face, and Steve, who happened to be in the lab at the time, a silent shadow by the wall not wanting to disturb his work but needing to feel like they were doing something to help Tony, walked over and lay a firm yet careful hand on his shoulder. 

“You did it,” Steve said, voice almost faint. Perhaps they had all stopped believing at some point. Bruce certainly had, although he was unwilling to accept defeat. But repeating Tony’s designs… 

“Let’s hope it works,” Bruce prayed. If it didn’t, he was back to square one, because he had gone over every detail and couldn’t find anything that was incorrect. 

Whether Tony would miraculously wake up when the arc reactor was mounted on his chest, he didn’t know. It didn’t have an actual physiological function, far as he knew, short of keeping the cluster of shrapnel from entering his heart, but it might give him some kind of boost. 

Of course the palladium core was another problem; he hadn’t even dreamt of replicating whatever Tony had replaced the palladium with, and since he had no replacement at hand, this was the best he could do, short of the electro-magnet that resided in his chest for the moment. 

Hopefully it would be enough. 

With the socket wall fixed, the arc reactor slid in smoothly. Bruce’s hands shook a bit when he put it in place, plugging it in, then hoped. He was aware of others gathering at the door of the room, besides Steve, although everyone was quiet. It didn’t make him feel pressured to achieve some kind of scientific breakthrough as much as trying to pour all their collective hopes into this one gesture. 

The arc reactor glowed, back in its rightful place. 

Tony’s face didn’t even twitch. 

Bruce watched, and watched, as if frozen in time. Everyone else waited too, but eventually he heard them shift, Clint murmuring something, people leaving. Still he stood there, watching, waiting, until he felt Steve’s hand on his shoulder again, and the weight of it made him sink down into a nearby chair. 

“You did all you could,” Steve said. “It has to be enough.” 

“And if he doesn’t pull through?” Bruce asked tightly. He didn’t like thinking about it, but he imagined it, every hour, awake or in troubled sleep. 

If Tony died… 

No; he wasn’t dead yet, his body was healing, and there was absolutely no reason for him to give up. He was just unwilling to wake up. Maybe he needed a little motivation. Bruce was half-tempted to let the other guy take over and roar until the walls shuddered if that would startle him back to the world of the living. 

Steve remained there for a moment, then left, perhaps to join the others. 

Bruce wondered if they would start coming to him one by one now, trying to make him feel better. 

If only he wouldn’t keep remembering the sensation of metal twisting under his hand… the memory perhaps just an illusion of replaying the video feed over and over again, fleshed out by his guilt, but feeling very real already. 

* * *

“I don’t know if they ever scientifically proved you can hear me…” Bruce muttered. 

It was another strange hour to be awake, the rest of the world sleeping, but he was in Tony’s room, sitting by his bed, talking to him. That was becoming a habit, especially every time the others tried to make him sleep before he flipped, and he woke from another distorted dream, feeling like the other guy was coming out, his heart hammering in his throat, and he would wander back in there since everyone else was asleep and unable to stop him from doing so. 

Tony’s bedside was peaceful, the blue glow and a light coming from the hallway. Almost like that night after the battle against the Chitauri ended, and he sat in Tony’s room on the edge of his bed. 

They had never talked about that, if Tony even remembered it. Well, he ought to, since he had woken up at some ungodly hour, leaving Bruce slumbering on his bed. 

Was that why he had asked him to stay after they parted ways? 

Had that been why Bruce said yes, even knowing the risks it presented? 

“I don’t know why I stayed,” he mused out loud. “I certainly didn’t stay for this. If I hadn’t… I would have been long gone… and you wouldn’t have to lie here.” 

But if Tony had been determined to hurt himself, he would have just found another way; if it had been a conscious choice, or even an unconscious one… 

“Why did it have to be me – the other guy?” he asked, almost accusingly. “You know I’ll feel like shit about this for the rest of my life…” 

His hand shifted, almost idly, because it didn’t really matter whether it did or not, and he touched Tony’s hand, unmoving on top of the sheets, an IV attached to it, and he held his fingers with his own a bit awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, not for the first time, hanging his head tiredly. He felt tired all the time these days, drained and ineffective. He had failed in the only thing he’d set out to do. Well, not exactly; he did re-build the arc reactor, and it was working just fine, but the main objective had always been to heal Tony. To bring him back. 

“You know, right, that I’ll take all the snarky comments from you that I can get if you’ll just wake up?” he mused next. True to form, Tony would let him hear about how he almost killed him, endlessly. 

He must have really hit rock bottom when that felt preferable to anything else. 

Against his fingers, Tony’s twitched slightly. 

Bruce lifted his head, to peer at him, but it may have been just another muscle spasm, a random burst in his brain causing an involuntary jerk in the body, or he may have even completely imagined it. 

Well, he could just as well imagine he had felt it, and that it was a sign that Tony was listening. Such optimism wasn’t becoming of him, but a little bit of healthy madness might do him good. It was preferable, certainly, to any reality where Tony never woke up at all. 

“You’re actually making me want to snap,” Bruce chuckled. “You would be so proud…” 

Again, he felt a jerk, and was quite certain he hadn’t imagined it. There were half a dozen medical reasons why it would occur, without Tony ever having any conscious part in it, and it dampened the moment a little. Sometimes he wished he didn’t know, that he didn’t possess the information he did, so that he could be in the same blissful ignorance as the families of his patients back when he was still running from his past, the other guy lurking in the shadows, trying to do something good for a change. 

Tony had thought it had all happened for a reason, for some greater purpose. Certainly it wasn’t fair it would end with Tony lying here and Bruce falling to pieces at his bedside. 

“I don’t think you’re really even trying,” he noted. “It’s kind of unfair, seeing as I’ve put my all into this.” His fingers tightened against Tony’s, curling further around them. He didn’t feel calm, sitting here, but the other guy hadn’t tried to come out, as if there was an actual agreement for once that Bruce was more useful than the big green rage-monster. 

Tony’s entire hand jerked in his grip, and so did his head. A faint groan escaped his throat, and it was the first sound he had made in days. Ever since the incident, actually. Bruce almost fell off his chair, unbelieving, then forced himself to wait, to… keep doing whatever he had been doing, which was to hold Tony’s hand, and talk. 

The dark, finely-trimmed brow twisted into a frown, another sound escaping his throat, and his chest rose and fell a few times, and then the brown eyes regarded him almost blearily, the frown still there, perhaps from confusion and pain both. 

“About time,” Bruce blurted. 

Tony still frowned, then craned his head with difficulty, looking down at himself. 

Bruce reached over for a cup of water, which actually was his, but he had no recollection whether he had even touched it, and Tony didn’t need to know that. He offered him some, to ease his dry throat, and Tony flexed his jaw a few times, as if testing something. 

“How do you feel?” Bruce asked, trying to sound professional, but after the long wait, he wasn’t sure how he should feel. Well, relieved, probably. 

“Palladium,” was the first thing Tony said. 

“Yeah, I… had no idea how to… replicate your newer design, so this had to do,” he noted a bit defensively. “How could you tell?” 

“I can taste it,” Tony said, speech coming a bit easier. He regarded himself for a moment longer, then looked at Bruce. “I pissed you off.” 

“You pissed the other guy off,” Bruce clarified. “Don’t do that again.” 

“Should improve armor…” 

Of course that was Tony’s logical answer, instead of choosing not to piss off the other guy in the future. Never the easy way out, although Tony might say it was. 

“You’ll have to do better than this,” Tony said then, and Bruce wasn’t certain what he was talking about. 

“Just so you know, I did pretty well,” Bruce started, knowing that was the truth in all possible variations, whether it came to trying to kill Tony, or fixing him up. 

“Yeah, I know… but the arc reactor needs an upgrade,” Tony said. 

“Well, you’ll have to help me with it, then,” Bruce rolled his eyes. 

Tony smiled; a weak, pained smile, but a smile nonetheless. “It’s my design,” he noted. 

“Indeed it is.” 

“But I’ll let you play with it.” 

Bruce felt like rolling his eyes again – or just sighing, or perhaps crying from cheer exhaustion, but instead he simply leaned back in his chair, his hand still holding Tony’s, and watched him drift off again, yet he was confident he was just asleep this time, and was going to wake up some time later, hopefully more well-behaved and respecting the fact that Bruce had saved his life, but he wasn’t about to bet all his money on that kind of drastic character change. 

_As long as he’s alive_ , he told himself. 

 

 

**The End**


End file.
